


Rhythm

by thethrillof



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethrillof/pseuds/thethrillof
Summary: You know some things can wait ♪





	Rhythm

You sing. You sing _great._

Not a lot of people are surprised by this, if they get a chance to catch you at it; Shyren talks even less than you, and her notes are still improving, but everyone in the crowds sing with her when she’s in concerts, and she’s really popular now. 

Lots of monsters remember your performance in Waterfall anyway, and even on the Surface they gossip about it enough that Mettaton sometimes dramatically leaps into your life (and house) to ask if you want to join, though Mom says no for you until you’re older. 

Once, he fake-cries about missing your _debut._ You offer to give him an encore, but he sniffles (maybe it’s not a fake cry?) and says it’s too late. But you’ll sing something else for him one day! Something amazing!

You aren’t sure why that alone isn’t considered ‘amazing’ enough. Still, you nod, and you swear you will, repeating his words right back.

One day.

* * *

Despite your excellent singing and posing skills, you can’t actually _dance_ that well. 

Your partner could, once. You think. They don't tell you much about themselves, but you noticed fast that they've got a good sense of rhythm you can feel in your limbs. At least at the rare times when you listen to music you both agree on. They can’t do anything dancing or really just _physical_ anymore, at least not easily, ‘cause the lengths of your legs are either too different from what they had  _or_  they just don’t know how to use a body right anymore without practice, and maybe they’re embarrassed.

You’re graceful now on your own, so much intense (brutal) practice (experience) dodging around thousands of bullets paying off. Your partner doesn’t watch, then, despite that you don’t think they have eyes to close; they just fall back and  _feel_. It's enjoyable, but _dancing_ and _helping some friends with sparring_ isn't the same thing.

They never offer to take your place. They never try to choose their own music unless you offer first. They never _move._  So you just keep trying to move for them.

Maybe one day your rhythms’ll match all the way. Maybe they’ll get less worried.

Maybe you can dance together, with or without anyone else as an audience.

One day.


End file.
